


Hey, Jealousy

by searchingwardrobes



Series: Fandom Birthday Playlist [32]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Jealousy, Light Angst, Lovers to Friends to Lovers, i am on a roll making up new tags here, one night stand becomes best friend becomes lover, which is apparently a tag I just made up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 23:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20882645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: Emma Swan doesn’t do friends with benefits - too many feelings involved. But best friends with a guy she slept with once? Well, that’s completely different. So they get jealous every now and then, that’s not feelings - right? Based on the song by the Gin Blossoms.





	Hey, Jealousy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WelpThisIsHappening](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WelpThisIsHappening/gifts).

> For WelpThisIsHappening on her birthday, filled with as many of her favorite things as I could put into a fic. Have a great day, my friend!

_ And you know it might not be that bad, you were the best I ever had. If I hadn’t blown the whole thing years ago, I might not be alone. _

What’s the cliche? Something about not wasting time looking in the rearview mirror because that’s not where your headed? Of course, Emma Swan has always been  _ difficult _ , so to speak, with life maxims. It isn’t that she’s intentionally trying to be cynical, it’s just . . . Is she the only one who ever thinks through these cute sayings? Because, yeah, out the front windshield is your destination, but who doesn’t use their rearview mirrors when driving? What if someone with road rage is kissing your bumper? And don’t people pass slow drivers? Kind of need your rearview mirrors for that.

Of course, there’s probably some saying about not speeding through life or staying in your lane . . . ok, now she’s probably muddling the driving metaphors. 

The point is, Emma finds herself looking in her proverbial rearview mirror a lot. They say “what ifs” are pointless, but she’s got plenty of them anyway. Most are painful.  _ What if my parents had kept me? What if Neal and I really had gotten to Tallahassee? What if I had held him, just for a minute? _

But others make her grateful.  _ What if Ruth hadn’t taken in an angry, pregnant teen? What if David hadn’t been all “instant big brother”? What if Ruby hadn’t been assigned the office right next to mine? _

The one that plagues her the most, however, is  _ What if I had never slept with Killian Jones?  _ Not that the night itself wasn’t great - it was. Not that Killian didn’t graciously ignore the constant elephant in the room - he did. Not that they weren’t best friends despite it all - they were.

She just wondered sometimes . . . she wasn’t even sure, she just . . . wondered. Her sexual partners all fit into three categories: Neal (relationship), one night stands, and Killian, who was . . . what exactly? Her best friend she slept with that one time? The one night stand who became her best friend? Her best friend who just so happened to be a little drunk and sort of lonely at the exact same time she was a little drunk and sort of lonely? 

None of their (mutual) friends knew about what happened between the maid of honor and the best man at David and Mary Margaret’s wedding. After all, she and Killian had never met until that weekend. It should have been a perfect one night stand situation - he lived in Seattle. As in, on the complete opposite side of the country. Then his college best friend had to go and get him a job at Storybook Biz.

Thanks a lot, David.

And just like that, her one night stand was across the hall every day at work. It should have been awkward.

Only it wasn’t. And now Emma’s constantly pondering that damn rearview mirror . . . 

_ Tell me do you think it’d be alright if I could just crash here tonight? You see I’m in no shape for driving, and anyway, I’ve got no place to go. _

Killian knocking at Emma’s door at a quarter to midnight wasn’t necessarily an oddity. But Killian knocking on her door at a quarter to midnight when he was supposed to be on a date? That wasn’t exactly common. 

“Are you drunk?”

He stumbled past her, running his fingers through his already disheveled hair. “Only slightly.”

“I take it the date didn’t go well,” she muttered as she closed the door. 

Killian kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto her couch without preamble. “I suppose it depends upon your point of view.” He flung his arm over his face wearily. Emma sat at the opposite end of the couch and propped his feet in her lap. 

“Okay, Obi-Wan, enlighten me.” 

His voice was muffled beneath his forearm. “Before the appetizers even arrived I knew everything I never wanted to know about Aladdin.”

“Which one, the cartoon or the new one with Will Smith?”

Killian chuckled as he caught her eye, his arm sliding up to rest on his forehead. “Jasmine’s ex.”

Emma’s eyebrows flew to her hairline. “Your date’s name was Jasmine, and her ex is Aladdin? Seriously?”

“I couldn’t make this up if I tried, love. Anyway, I suppose the evening ended well for them since I basically assisted in getting them back together. She raced out of the restaurant to meet him, leaving me with a platter of wontons.”

“Are you trying to date or run some sort of relationship rehab?” Emma asked as she propped a throw pillow on his feet and hugged it to her chest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Emma shrugged. “This was your first date since Ariel, and you were only helping her make Eric jealous.”

“Which also worked, I’d like to point out.” He grabbed a fistful of his hair as a light seemed to dawn in his eyes. “You know, Swan, you may be onto a new career for me.”

Emma rolled her eyes and then smacked him in the stomach with the pillow. “Shut up. You better not abandon me to Scarlett. There would be bloodshed in the office.”

Killian grabbed the pillow, holding it just out of her reach as she tried to snatch it back. “Are you trying to say that I’m the most brilliant cover designer at SB?” 

“No,” Emma huffed, lunging across Killian’s torso to finally get hold of the pillow, “I’m saying you’re much less of a dick than Scarlett.”

Though Killian  _ was  _ the best cover designer they had on staff, and everyone knew it. Including Killian.

“I’d also reconsider your dating choices,” Emma continued, shifting so she was wedged between him and the couch.

“Swan,” Killian groaned, “not this again. You haven’t liked anyone I’ve dated.”

“That’s not true!”

“You didn’t like Ursula.”

“She was too old for you.”

“Belle.”

“She was actually into Scarlett the whole time, and really, how many women can you say that about?”

“Zelena.”

“ _ You  _ didn’t like Zelena! You found an excuse to bail before the menus arrived.”

“Okay, she was scary. But what about Tink? You  _ despised  _ Tink.”

“Well of course. She calls herself  _ Tink  _ for God’s sake.”

He arched one brow at her, then tickled her feet until she kicked him lightly in the ribs. “Okay, I’ll concede, Tink was a little on the eccentric side.”

“You know, I see a pattern here. Jasmine, Ariel, Belle. Should I start calling you Prince Charming?”

Killian gave her his trademark grin, the one that was lopsided and slightly cocky. “I dated a woman named Tink, love, maybe you should call me Captain Hook.”

Emma barked a laugh and dug her toes into his collar bone. “With a perm and a waxed moustache?”

“I could pull it off.”

He probably could, the bastard. Emma swung her feet around and stood up with a grunt. 

“I should probably get you some water and an aspirin.”

Killian took the throw pillow she’d discarded and placed it behind his head. “I didn’t have all that much to drink, honestly. Just thought I’d play it safe and crash here? The restaurant was only a block away.”

He gave her his best puppy dog face, and Emma rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

“And I didn’t have anything else to eat after the wontons.”

“I’ll make you a grilled cheese.” She was grumbling as she headed for the kitchen, but in truth she was glad he’d stopped by. 

She was always glad when he stopped by. It had nothing to do with his bad date with Jasmine. Nothing at all. 

“Only thing is,” Killian sighed as she pulled the frying pan out of her kitchen cabinet, “now I don’t have a date to the charity ball.”

“Oh,” Emma muttered as she got out the bread and cheese. She turned to get the plates, and smiled to see Killian already there, handing them to her. They moved about the kitchen with practiced ease until the sandwiches were ready. Killian grabbed some sodas from the fridge, and they headed back to the sofa. 

“What about you, Swan?” 

“What about me?” Emma asked, licking a drop of cheese off her finger.

Killian’s eyes darted to her lips, then he gave his head a slight shake. “Um, about the charity event next weekend.”

Several firms in the publishing industry were holding the event. The kickoff was the ball on Friday night, but there was also a charity baseball tournament on Saturday, and a carnival on Sunday. All of it was to raise money for a childhood literacy foundation. It was a pretty big deal for Storybook Biz to be involved. They were the only company participating that provided services to self-publishers, and exclusively in children’s and YA lit at that. It could put their relatively small company in the limelight, something that Regina was reminding them of on a constant basis. Complete participation was required. 

“Well, believe it or not, Walsh agreed to go.”

Emma could see Killian’s adam’s apple as he swallowed, his eyes widening slightly. 

“A third date, huh?”

Emma set her plate down with a thud on the coffee table. “What’s that tone?”

“There was no tone.”

“Yes there was.”

Killian sighed. “I just . . . think you could do better.”

_ You mean like you? _ The words were on the tip of her tongue before she swallowed them back. No need to shine a spotlight on that damn elephant.

“He’s a nice guy!”

“He looks like a monkey.”

“He does not. That’s ridiculous.” Emma shoved her sandwich in her mouth and chewed furiously. Walsh did have sort of a weird smile that when you thought about it . . . She suddenly found her  _ Charlie’s Angels  _ thrift store plate absurdly fascinating. She cringed when Killian practically crowed with laughter.

“You see it too, admit it! It’s the ears -”

“Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t you say?” Emma teased, reaching over to tug on Killian’s elf shaped ears. They were adorable, actually, but she wasn’t about to tell  _ him  _ that.

The ear tugging escalated into a tickling/wresting match that involved pillows, Emma’s set of Jonas Brothers coasters, and using her  _ Charlie’s Angels  _ plates as frisbees. By the time they ended up in a heap on the couch, talk of dates was forgotten as they decided to binge watch  _ Parks & Rec _ .

She absolutely did not care who he was taking to the charity ball anyway. 

_ The past is gone but something might be found to take its place . . . Hey, jealousy. _

When Walsh rang her apartment, Emma had to lift the skirts of her massive ball gown just to walk to the door. She was going to grumble and complain to her friends about the theme of this ball - An Enchanted Fairy Tale Evening - but secretly, she sort of liked this whole formal wear cosplay thing. 

Except for what this corset was doing to her spleen. 

“Walsh, what the hell?”

The man was standing there in the hallway wearing a black tux. He even had a corsage in a little plastic box like he was taking her to the prom.

He looked her up and down incredulously in a way that no woman wants to be looked at by a man taking her to a ball. His look was equivalent to the way a baby boomer rolled their eyes at a Potterhead dressed up for Dragon Con.

“I didn’t think you were serious about the themed thing.”

“Yes I was serious! Now we’re going to look ridiculous!”

“ _ We  _ will look ridiculous?”

His laugh died under Emma’s withering scowl. She grabbed her clutch and practically slammed her door behind her. “Let’s go.”

He never even told her she looked nice.

************************************************************

“Swan. You look . . . “

Emma gave Killian a quirk of her brow and a teasing smile as she curtsied somewhat awkwardly. “I know.”

“I mean . . . “ Killian walked around her (quite a feat, actually, the skirt was massive) admiring her at every angle, “you cut quite the figure in that dress, love, and red has always been my favorite color on you.”

Emma glanced at a scowling Walsh as Killian bent to kiss her hand. Well, it served him right. He should have gushed over her long before they arrived. Killian’s eyes met hers, and he winked. 

“Okay, that’s enough pawing my date,” Walsh grumbled, giving Killian a slight shove. He flashed the other man a tight yet friendly smile to temper his words, but Walsh was clearly marking his territory. Emma crossed her arms over her chest before Walsh could tuck her hand into the crook of his arm. His jealousy was far from cute. 

“Did Emma not tell you there was a theme?”

Walsh tilted his chin. “I’m a little past playing dress up.”

Emma’s jaw dropped, but Killian just chuckled. “Well, mate, looks like you’re the only one.”

He slapped Walsh on the shoulder just a tad harder than necessary and gave Emma another wink as he rejoined his date for the night. It was just Anna, who was practically his sister since Elsa married Liam, and the only reason she came with Killian tonight was because Kristoff came down with the flu.

Not that Emma cared who his date was, of course. However, she couldn’t deny how incredibly handsome he looked in a long, brown brocade coat with gold buttons and blue leather breeches. The white linen shirt beneath had just enough buttons undone to give him a rakish look, and she remembered their conversation about Prince Charming and Captain Hook. The man even had a gold sword at his hip.

“Could you, uh, get me a drink?” Emma asked Walsh, her throat dry.

The minute he was gone, there was a voice at Emma’s ear.

“If you stare at Killian any harder, he’s gonna burst into flames.”

Emma jumped, her heart giving a little lurch. “Shit, Rubes, don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Not that I blame you,” Ruby continued with a smirk, “he makes a great prince, doesn’t he?”

Emma shook her head, but couldn’t help smiling at her friend. Ruby’s dress was your standard Renaissance festival garb, but what made her stand out was the crimson cape she’d draped over it. She also carried a little basket in lieu of a clutch. 

“Little Red Riding Hood?”

Ruby’s bright red lips quirked in a flirty grin. “It’s a fairy tale.”

“So who’s your big bad wolf?”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “I came with Victor.”

“Rubes!”

“I’m between relationships, and I knew he would say yes.”

Emma shook her head, but before she could warn her friend any further regarding her on again, off again ex, Walsh was at her side with a flute of champagne. 

“Thanks,” she told him, taking a sip. 

“Hey, Walsh,” Ruby said, “I heard you were playing in the game tomorrow.”

Emma almost choked on her champagne. “You are?”

“Well, yeah,” he said with a shrug, “I’ve done some CPA work for Macmillan, and they were short a man. I was going to tell you.”

“Macmillan?” David asked as he walked up with Mary Margaret on his arm. They were dressed as Snow White and Prince Charming. 

Naturally.

“SB is playing Macmillan in the first game.”

“Oh, well, be prepared for my girl to cheer against you.” 

Emma gritted her teeth as Walsh planted a wet kiss to her cheek.

“She’s no one’s girl.” Killian’s eyes were laser focused on her as he joined the group, his jaw tight. Emma couldn’t decide if it was sweet or embarrassing. Walsh rocked back on his heels, chuckling nervously. 

“Right, right, woman. I meant woman.”

“Woman,” Killian bit out sarcastically, his gaze still on Emma, “I don’t think your date understood the full meaning of my criticism, love.”

Emma stepped out of Walsh’s half-embrace before his fingers could dig any further into her waist. She stepped between him and Killian in what she hoped was a casual move.

“Why don’t we dance?” She widened her eyes slightly, hoping Killian would pick up on her silently begging him not to make a scene.

“He doesn’t get the first dance, I do!” Walsh’s voice rose slightly, indignant, as he grasped her by the elbow. 

Emma saw Killian’s eyes flash, and she bit back a groan. 

“Don’t grab her like that, mate.” 

Emma was probably the only one who noticed the way he bit out that final word, and she was probably the only one who knew that his steely calm was way more dangerous than raising his voice would have been. She smoothly yanked her arm out of Walsh’s grasp and laid her hand gently on Killian’s shoulder. 

“I can handle this,” she whispered.

“Hey!” Walsh snapped, his voice rising another octave. He knocked Emma’s hand off Killian’s shoulder, and that was the proverbial last straw. How had she not seen what an epic jerk this guy was until three dates in? She turned, fully prepared to slap Walsh across the face for daring to touch her yet again like he owned her. 

Killian, however, beat her to it. 

Faster than anyone could process it, Killian’s fist had connected with Walsh’s jaw, and the latter stumbled backwards before losing his balance and hitting the floor.

“Killian! What the hell?” Emma shouted, more because she’d missed her opportunity to hit Walsh herself than concern for her date. Then she noticed the hush fall over the room and saw the gaze of most of the party goers directed at them. She turned towards Killian then, her face burning with humiliation.

He was no longer looking at her, though, instead towering over Walsh with both fists clenched. 

“You’re insane!” Walsh shouted at him, rubbing at his jaw. “She said you were her best friend, but clearly you’re fucking her too.”

Killian surely would have kicked the shit out of Walsh then, based on the fire in his eyes, but Regina chose that moment to step in. With the same terrifying grace she wielded so well in the office, she grasped both Emma and Killian by the upper arm with surprising strength.

“If I may have a word,” she hissed as she pulled them towards the ballroom entrance. Once in the hallway, she shoved them into the coatroom, slamming the door behind her. She turned to them then, leaning her back against the door and crossing her arms over her chest. She was dressed in a skin tight red velvet dress with a long train that pooled around her feet. Her blood red lipstick and blood red nails only added to the overall effect.

“I see you decided to go with Evil Queen instead of princess,” Killian quipped, “perfect choice, your majesty.”

“Shut it, Jones,” she snapped. If looks could kill, Emma was pretty sure she and Killian would have dropped dead right then. “Do you have any idea the groveling I had to do to get our company invited to this event? The last thing we need is you two causing a scene. Now either go back out there and be professional, or - “ Regina paused and smirked at the two of them, “fuck already and put us all out of our misery.”

She left then, leaving Emma red-faced with her jaw on the floor. Her hands fisted in her taffeta skirt, and she refused to even look at Killian. When he spoke, the teasing tone in his voice only made her angry. 

“Little does she know -”

“Don’t. Even. Say it.”

Emma leveled him with a murderous glare of her own before stomping over to the door of the coat room. She tripped over her skirt in the process, which sort of ruined the whole tone she was going for, but she stubbornly squared her shoulders and reached for the doorknob. She threw a few more words at him over her shoulder, once again avoiding eye contact. 

“Don’t follow me. Wait ten minutes and give me time to get Walsh out of here before you two go swinging your dicks around again.”

As she yanked the door open, Killian replied softly behind her, “As you wish.”

_ Cause all I really want is to be with you, feeling like I matter too. If I hadn’t blown the whole thing years ago, I might be here with you. _

The only bright side to leaving the ball early with Walsh was that she actually got a good night’s sleep and didn’t have to worry about a hangover the next day. 

And dumping Walsh - that was a bright side too.

A good night’s sleep with no hangover was definitely a positive when sitting in the bleachers in the blazing hot sun on a Saturday afternoon. She really couldn’t believe she was required to be here. At least the concession stand had decent onion rings. 

“Emma!” Mary Margaret called out as she navigated the bleachers with a container of chili cheese fries in her hands. 

“MM, thank God! I was starting to think I was the only one at SB who wasn’t in the game.”

“Well, to be honest,” Mary Margaret admitted as she took a seat next to Emma, “I would prefer to be out there. David is being a bit too overprotective right now.”

“Overprotective? Why?”

Mary Margaret beamed, a twinkle in her eye as she subtly rested her hand on her abdomen. Emma gasped.

“Are you serious?”

“You mean do I seriously have a Nolan bun in the oven? Yes, yes I do.”

Emma hugged her friend. “I’m so happy for you! I can’t believe David let you tell me.”

MM shrugged. “I told him if he was going to be this ridiculou, he better let me tell you the real reason I’m not in the game.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Sounds like David. You’re not even showing, what could happen?”

“Please don’t ask your brother that question. He’ll give you a dozen scenarios, each one more ridiculous than the last. When I imagined him trailing behind me on the diamond like I might break, I decided to humor him rather than be humiliated. Besides, this morning sickness clearly isn’t fond of the heat. No one wants to see me puke all over the dugout.”

“Yet you’re eating chili cheese fries.” Emma arched both brows as she glanced from the greasy food, to her sister-in-law, and back again.

“There’s no rhyme or reason to morning sickness, Emma. This was the only thing on the menu that didn’t make me want to hurl. Oh, and fyi, I’d keep those onion rings downwind.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Emma quipped, moving her favorite junk food to her other side.

Mary Margaret waved to her husband, and David waved back. “That man looks so good in a baseball jersey.”

“Ew, sister here.”

Mary Margaret laughed around a cheesy fry. “Okay then, how do you think Killian looks in a baseball jersey?”

“I’m mad at him, if you haven’t noticed.”

“That has no bearing on how he looks in the damn uniform, Emma.”

The inning had just ended, and the SB players were returning to the dugout. Killian’s eyes fell on Emma’s, and he gave her a tentative smile and a small wave. Emma, her eyes safely hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses, ignored him. His way too expressive face made it clear that she may as well have shouted obscenities at him. She sighed.

“Can you just admit the man is madly in love with you?” MM groaned.

Emma had never been so thankful for sunglasses in her life. “Would everyone just stop? We’re close. Best friends. That’s it.”

“Right.”

“And _not _friends with benefits, despite what Rubes says. I don’t do that.”

“Oh, I know it,” MM deadpanned, “but don’t think everyone in the office hasn’t noticed the yearning looks and doey eyes.”

“I don’t yearn,” Emma muttered before shoving an onion ring in her mouth.

“Maybe, but he does.” Emma chanced a glance at MM. She was regarding her with a tender, almost pitying look on her face. She laid a hand on Emma’s arm. “And I think you’re just better at hiding it.”

“I don’t see any evidence that Killian is . . . is . . . “

“In love with you? God, you can’t even spit out the word!” MM gave a wry chuckle. “And no evidence? Are you insane? Every time there’s donuts in the break room, he makes sure to deliver a bear claw to your desk. With a note, I might add.”

“They’re just inside jokes, not love letters.” Emma snorted through her nose, but it came out somewhat pathetic. 

“And last Valentine’s day,” MM continued, undeterred, “how many bags of conversation hearts did he go through to pick out every single one that said  _ best friend _ ?”

Emma couldn’t help smiling at the memory. “Ok, but it’s not like he picked out the ones that said  _ True Love  _ or  _ Soulmate _ or something.”

“God, you are grasping at straws. You have to admit that -”

The crack of the bat resounded through the ball field, and Emma and MM abandoned their snacks and surged to their feet as Killian tossed the bat aside and ran towards first. They shouted and cheered as the MacMillan outfield ran to retrieve the ball and Killian rounded second. 

“Oh no,” Emma whispered. 

There, crowding third base, was Walsh.

“Is he allowed to do that?” MM asked. 

Emma’s stomach protested all those onion rings as she saw the determined look on Killian’s face and Walsh’s stubborn stance. This was clearly not about baseball, but personal. A sickening feeling washed over her as Walsh leaned one shoulder forward just as Killian reached the base. Walsh drove his entire body into Killian, sending him sprawling to the dirt.

“What does he think this is, football?” MM screeched.

The blood drained from Emma’s face when Killian didn’t get up. She shoved her way down the bleachers, running full tilt out onto the field. The umpire was already heading that way, and play had ceased. 

“What the hell, Walsh!” she screamed as she skid to her knees at Killian’s side. “This isn’t the fucking World Series!”

Part of her wanted to fling herself at the man and beat the crap out of him, but her desire to know that Killian was okay won out. She leaned over him, just as his eyes blinked open, squinting at the bright sun overhead.

“Hey, beautiful!” he said to her, his voice slurred, his eyes unfocused.

“Call 911!” Emma yelled at the players gathered around.

“Come on, Emma,” Will retorted, “it’s just a concussion.”

“Don’t argue with me, Scarlett, I swear to God! Just make the damn call!”

Killian started murmuring again, groping with his hand as if trying to find her. “I knew you cared - I mean,  _ really  _ cared. You love me, don’t you?”

Emma took his hand to still it’s frantic movements and held it tight. “Of course I do.”

“No,” he slurred, “I mean looooove.”

“911!” Emma barked, at who she didn’t care. Killian’s eyes were rolling back in his head, and why the hell did nobody but her care?

“Ems,” David said gently, “seriously, we’ll take him to the ER. No need for an ambulance.”

He and Robin each took Killian by the arm and helped him to his feet. Killian swayed and his head lolled. His eyes started to close, and Robin slapped his cheek a few times.

“Stay with me, mate.”

“Robin!” Killian crowed. “Did you know I love Emma?”

“Yes, Kil, I heard that.”

Emma glared at Ruby when she let out a snort. “Don’t even, Rubes!”

“What? I didn’t say a thing!”

Emma followed closely behind the men as they half walked, half dragged Killian across the baseball diamond and out to the parking lot. Mary Margaret was there, hovering around Killian like a mother bird. 

“Watch his head!” she warned as they slid him into the back seat of her and David’s car. “Emma, stay back here with him.”

And just like that, Emma was in the back seat with Killian’s head in her lap. She kept having to slap his cheek to keep him awake. Without conscious thought, her fingers carded through his hair. Every time she patted his cheek, he mumbled more sappy, romantic nonsense. Thankfully, it was all G rated with no reference to the weekend they met. No need to tempt David to skip the hospital altogether.

“You know,” MM said with exaggerated thoughtfulness, “they say in moments like this, a person’s inhibitions are gone, enabling them to speak their truth.”

“Not the time, MM,” Emma told her through clenched teeth. 

Mary Margaret just gave her a self-satisfied grin.

_ And you can trust me not to think, and not to sleep around. If you don’t expect too much from me, you might not be let down.  _

Emma sat in one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs made of molded plastic, shifting in a vain attempt to get comfortable. She kept clasping and unclasping her hands nervously. The look on Liam Jones’s face before going back to see his brother was worse than any look David had ever leveled at the men she had dated. It clearly said  _ this is all your fault, Emma _ .

“Ignore Liam,” Elsa told her, putting a slender hand to her shoulder. “His overprotectiveness borders on insanity. How in the world could a concussion from a charity baseball game be your fault?”

Emma deflated, resting her head on Elsa’s shoulder. “No, in this case he’s right. It  _ is  _ my fault. If I had seen what a douchebag Walsh was earlier, Killian would have never punched him at the ball, and then Walsh would have never sent him crashing to the dirt.”

“Or,” Elsa amended, “you could have stopped pretending to be clueless and just accepted your feelings for Killian. Then you’d both quit making stupid decisions.”

Emma lifted her head from Elsa’s shoulder. “What is this? Can’t everyone cut me some slack?”

“We just all want you to be happy.”

“Who says dating Killian will make me happy? It could all blow up in our faces and then we don’t even have a friendship anymore.”

“Emma,” Elsa said gently, tucking a strand of hair behind her friend’s ear, “the deepest kind of love starts with friendship.”

Emma covered her face with both hands. Elsa didn’t know how it all started - no one did. When Killian had shown up at Storybook Biz with a cardboard box resting at his hip, Emma had played it cool. He probably thought she hated the night they’d spent together, or at the very least assumed it meant nothing to her. Now they were firmly stuck in the friend zone and she had no idea what to do about it. 

Or maybe this concussion was a blessing in disguise? She groaned. For one, that was incredibly selfish of her, and for another, he most likely remembered nothing that he’d said to her.

“He’s asking for you.”

Emma rose quickly at the sound of Liam’s voice, then swayed at her sudden dizziness. She blinked to clear the spots in her vision. She suddenly realized she’d had no water since leaving the baseball field. Great, she was dehydrated  _ and  _ emotionally drained. Perfect. 

“Take this and drink all of it,” Elsa commanded, pressing a water bottle into her hand. No wonder Elsa and MM had been blessed with husbands and babies. Taking care of people was embedded in their DNA. 

Emma took a swig of the water as she headed down the hallway to Killian’s room. They had done an MRI already, confirming that it was a concussion, and a pretty severe one at that. He had been admitted to a room to stay overnight for observation. It made Emma sway again just thinking about it, and she took another sip of water to steady herself. 

When she entered the room, Killian turned to her with a smile on his face. He looked odd in the hospital gown, his normal bravado toned down by the washed out, institutional garment. There was an IV in his hand, and sensors taped to his chest, and machines beeped. All of it combined to make tears spring to Emma’s eyes.

“Hey,” he told her, reaching out to take her hand as she neared the bed, “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” she choked out.

“Ok,” he conceded, “but I will be.”

She couldn’t speak, so she just squeezed his hand. He reached up with his free hand and scratched behind his ear.

“So about the stuff I said when I was . . . out of it.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Emma assured him quickly, waving her hand as if swatting away so many flies. “You didn’t know what you were saying.”

Killian frowned as if her words hurt him. “Everything since I hit the ground is patchy, Emma, I’ll admit, but there’s one thing I do know. I was blabbering on about my feelings for you, all of which I definitely meant.”

Emma felt a sudden urge to run, but Killian tightened his grip on her hand, threading his fingers with hers. He held her hand a lot, but she gazed at their interlaced fingers as if she’d never seen them that way before. 

“Now that those words are out, Emma, I refuse to take them back. I know that night at the wedding didn’t mean to you what it did to me, and I’m well aware that you deserve far better than the likes of me, but -”

“Excuse me?”

Killian blinked rapidly, his shock at her harsh tone clearly evident on his face. “Um . . . what?”

She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms over her chest. “Did you seriously just say that I deserve better than you?”

Killian’s gaze darted to the open door, as if hoping Liam would arrive and rescue him. “Uh . . . yes?”

“And did you also just say that the night we spent together meant nothing to me?”

Killian swallowed nervously, and Emma bit the inside of her cheek to keep the scowl on her face. 

“I . . . yes, I said that, too.”

Emma propped her hands on her hips and tilted her chin. “I’ll have you know, Killian Jones, that I’ve replayed that night in my mind on numerous occasions.”

A half-smile quirked his lips. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

He licked his bottom lip and arched one brow. “And why, may I ask, do you replay it so often?”

Emma gave him a half-smile of her own. “Because it was pretty damn good.”

Both of Killian’s brows rose. “Pretty good? Because I have to say, Emma Swan, that you’re the best I’ve ever had.”

Emma couldn’t stop the huge grin that split her face at that, and despite the IV and the narrow bed and all the beeping machinery, she launched herself at him. He caught her, successfully maneuvering all of the cords out of her way. She slanted her mouth over his, awkward and slightly sloppy. They both laughed, and Emma dug her fingers into his shoulders, resisting the urge to grab the back of his head. Damn concussion. She really loved his hair. 

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, too,” Emma whispered against his collar bone. The hospital gown didn’t fit very well, and her lips met warm skin. 

Killian reached up and buried his fingers in her hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

And when she said it, she didn’t hide against his chest or look away. She sat up, grasped his face with both hands and held his gaze. She let the words sink in, and then she pressed her lips to his again. 

_ The past is gone, but something might be found to take its place.  _


End file.
